The Portrait of Hunters as Young Men
by sammyboopedyou
Summary: 1983, the year everything changed. John, Dean, and Sam are on the road now trying to adjust to the reality of the situation. Growing up in an unconventional way, Sam and Dean are just different from other kids. What exactly are young hunters' lives like?
1. Chapter 1: Suits

**The Portrait of the Hunters as Young Men**

**Chapter 1: Suits**

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**Author's Note: **So, I'd always wanted to write a fanfic aout what happened in the lives of a young Dean and Sam, but I'd never gotten the chance to do so because I felt my writing wasn't good enough, or I wouldn't be able to convey what I thought well enough. However, I decided to go for it anyway (and stop the touchy-feely self-help crap). This is going to be a compilation of quasi-vignettes following the lives of Sam and Dean. I have the stories planned out, so it should be several chapters long. Anyway, without further ado, here's my first fanfic!

* * *

Dean didn't want to get up. He hated having to wake up early, as any four year old would. However, his father nudged him once and Dean noticed the solemn look on his face and knew better than to argue. He sleepily rolled over to his side facing Sammy who was fast asleep amidst their Dad's rustling.

"Hey Dean-o, change into this," John Winchester told his oldest son quietly pointing at a pile of clothing on one of the hideously bright orange motel sheets. Dean looked over and saw it was what his dad called a "sooot." It was simple and boring and had a thing that looked like a satiny rope on top of it. Dean just stared at it. It seemed odd to him that he should be asked to wear something like this, when he usually just wore whatever his mom picked out for him…

His mom. He hadn't seen her in over 3 weeks. Dad kept saying she was "gone," but Dean didn't understand. Mom had to come back, who else would sing to him when he was tired or feed him when he was sick? At least that's what his four-year-old mind tried to rationalize. However, a tiny piece of Dean's mind was screaming '_Mom would never leave this long. She ain't coming. She never came outta the fire and she never will.' _Dean hopped off the bed his eyes stinging a bit as he began to pull on the sooot. It was itchy and a bit big. Dean began to button his shirt, but his small fingers were fumbling with he buttons. John walked over to Dean and silently helped him button the plain white shirt. He grabbed a black tie and tied it around Dean's neck. Dean felt like it was choking him; the combination of the itchy cloth and the thing that looked like a rope used to strangle people made for a very pouty Dean. The toddler wanted to complain, but he just couldn't. Didn't have the heart or the energy for the effort it would take into even speaking… Not that it mattered; Dad had been very quiet lately around Sammy and him. He often left them at places with strange grown ups that insisted on hugging Dean and telling them he was a "brave" boy for going through "the hard time." Dean never knew what the hard time was though. He just smiled and nodded a lot. Where his Dad went was a mystery, but he wished he could go just to be with him. When his Dad _was_ around, though, he wasn't really Dad anymore. He would stay up, drinking something really gross that burned Dean's throat (he took a sip once when Dad wasn't looking) and not say much of anything. So, it was only logical Dean should be the same way: quiet and not say much of anything.

"I know it's annoying," John mumbled when he noticed the pouting Dean, "but you only have to wear these stupid monkey suits for a couple hours, okay kiddo?" Dean shrugged his shoulders acknowledging he understood. John sighed, "still not talking?" Another shrug. "Fine, but your tongues gonna get frozen that way and you won't be able to ever speak again."

Dean's green eyes, _Mary's eyes_, widened as he whispered, "nuh-uh….really?" It was the first thing he'd spoken in nearly three weeks.

"Yeah, really," John replied with a small smile. He pulled on the suit jacket and looked at Dean for a moment with a sadness in his eyes and said, "we're just going to visit your mom's finished gravestone. Say goodbye."

Dean's mouth went dry. Say goodbye? "where we goin'?"

"I dunno yet, just outta this place for awhile," John responded his voice hard and determined, and his eyes void of any emotion he had previously. "Get Sammy and go to the car with him."

"But daddy," Dean whined as his lip began to tremble, "I don' wanna leave! Mommy is here."

"Dean, please, just get in the car," John said a little firmer as he clenched a fist. This was the last thing he needed. A crying kid who broke his heart.

"But mommy!" Dean wailed again this time loud enough to wake baby Sammy who also began to cry.

"Your mother isn't coming back, Dean! She's dead, and crying isn't gonna change that," John said shouting now, "for Chrissake look what you did! You woke up Sammy. Get in the car with him, Dean. Now." John's eyes locked on Dean's with a fierce determination. He had to get Dean to listen and stop talking about Mary before he punched a wall.

Dean wailed as he picked up Sammy and walked to the Impala. John watched his small figure walk away floundering under the weight of carrying baby Sammy. For someone so young he was far too old. "I'm so sorry, Mary. I just don't know what to do. I ca—I can't do this alone," John whispered. He gathered the rest of their belongings and packed them into the trunk. He could hear through the window that Dean was sniffling and trying to calm the hysterical Sammy who'd been crying a lot since Mary had died. The only thing that consoled him was Dean humming "Hey Jude" to him. John got in the car and started the ignition, as "Carry on Wayward Son" blasted through the car speakers.

* * *

John stood in front of a White gravestone that read "Mary Winchester" in Greenville, Illinois. One of Mary's uncles had insisted on having one there, despite not having a body to bury. John stared at the white slab of rock. It was meaningless. It could never amount to what Mary was. Dean shuffled closer to his father and gripped Sammy tightly as he bounced him up and down. His little face was set in stone, eyes inscrutable. His little foot kicked at the headstone; his mom had lied to him. She told him angels were watching over him. No angel would let this happen. Nice things like angels just didn't exist. Dean looked up at his father. His dad's eyes were empty and void of any emotion. _What's wrong with Dad? Daddy was so sad, his heart stopped feeling. _Without knowing what to do the toddler finally spoke and said, "S'okay, daddy."

John stared at his eldest wondering is he was hearing correctly. "Son, she—she's not comin' back."

"I know. But you'll be okay," Dean responded simply not looking his father in the eyes.

John felt a lump catch in his throat. His four-year-old was comforting _him. _He had really screwed things up royally. "C'mon Dean, let's go." He picked Dean up and carried him and Sammy to the Impala. "How you doin', kiddo?"

Dean said nothing for a few moments and then angrily proclaimed, "I hate this monkey sooot!" John stared at Dean and began to laugh. Dean joined in, and even Sammy gurgled. For one brief, shining moment things felt _easy._


	2. Chapter 2: Pie

**Chapter 2: Pie**

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**Author's Note: **Hey! I finally got around to the second installment of this... god knows what it is. I know the story has been a little Dean heavy, but I can't really include much Sam since he's an infant. I plan to get him to be more involved as this progresses, though! Promise! I've planned out that this story will go until Sam leaves for Stanford, so it should be about 18 chapters. Anyway, I'll stop talking now! Happy reading!

* * *

"Look, Bobby, I just need to drop them off for a few day, it won't be long," John pleaded standing outside of the Impala that was parked in front of Bobby's front door.

"No! Ya need to be with your kids more an' ya can't keep leavin' 'em all over the place like forgotten luggage!" Bobby explained exasperatedly. He knew John was trying to do his best, but he just couldn't help but being annoyed. He dragged his kids all over the country, never let them have a proper home or stability, and left them with hunters who were practically strangers.

"Look, I'm askin' you nicely. If you don't wanna help me watch the boys for a few days, I don't care. I'll ask someone else," John replied testily. He looked into the Impala where he saw a Dean sitting in the backseat fast asleep with his arm on Sammy. They almost looked angelic in that commercial-for-family-trips kinda way.

"You don't know anybody else," Bobby snorted. "I'll let the boys stay because they're good kids not because I'm doin' you a favor. I like them more than you."

John laughed. "Fair enough. I'll wake them up," He turned around and open the backdoor of the Impala and Dean's head that had been leaning against the window fell forward and he awoke with a start.

"Dad, whaddya hafta do that for?" the five year old mumbled sleepily as he rubbed his bright green eyes.

"I need you to take Sam inside and put him to bed there, I'm leaving for awhile and not coming back for a few days," John told him not quite meeting his gaze.

"Aww, Dad, why? No!" Dean protested with a whine in his voice.

"Dean, now," John ordered strictly.

"Fine!" Dean said angrily waking Sam and setting him on the floor. "Just go and leave me here alone like you always do!"

"It's not like that, Dean, stop being a whiny girl," John said harshly with a somewhat exasperated wave of his hand as he rubbed his eyes.

"Fine then. I don't need you. Sammy and I are fine all on our own," Dean announced smartly as he half-walked, half-dragged his one year old brother across the porch and into Bobby's house.

Bobby watched Dean and Sam go into his house. It looked so awkward as Dean stormed off trying to look tough while tugging Sam who could barely take three steps at a time. He chuckled and turned to John, "you need to be with your boys more. God help 'em, but they really love ya."

"Those two are gonna be the death of me," John said getting into the Impala and driving off.

* * *

Bobby walked inside as he heard Dean's small voice telling Sam, "Dad'll be back, ok? Don't worry Sammy, he's just workin' and stuff."

"Whatcha doin' boy?" Bobby asked Dean as he took a seat next to him on the couch.

"Nuthin' just talkin' to Sammy," Dean replied suddenly very interested in his fingernails. He didn't want Bobby to think he was a whiny girl.

"Well what are you talkin' to him about?" Bobby asked. For such a little kid, Dean sure looked like he carried the weight of the word on his shoulders.

"Just tellin' Sammy Dad's coming back," Dean said turning to look at his little brother. Sammy was sitting up chewing on a piece or wood he found on the floor. "No! Sam! You don't chew on things offa the floor," Dean chastised. He turned back to Bobby, "Do you have a plastic baggy I could put ice in? He's gettin' baby teeths and he's teethin' or something. Dad said."

Bobby sighed. Freaking John should take care of his goddam kids, not have his little kid take care of the littler kid. "Yeah, I'll get some for you."

As Bobby's footsteps disappeared Sam turned to Dean and shrieked, "Daddy!" Dean sighed and shook his head.

"No, Sammy, but Uncle Bobby's gonna take care of us for some days 'til Dad comes back, kay?" Dean moved Sam onto his lap. "Now let's see if there's something on TV?" Bobby came over with the makeshift teething toy and handed it to Sam who gratefully began sucking on it. "Uncle Bobby, do ya know if we can watch the TV?" Dean asked him giving him a cherubic smile.

"It only gets a few channels, but sure," Bobby responded as he began fiddling with the dials. He finally found one channel that didn't look terrible. It was some early morning news program and he left it on for Dean to watch and Sam to mostly look at moving pictures. "I'll be right outside, I need to look at a car, okay?"

"Mmm," Dean responded clearly not paying any attention to what was going on. He heard Uncle Bobby close he front door, but he was too busy watching some pretty lady talk about this dog that saved a guy's life on TV. It was pretty boring stuff: the latest trends, the best movies, the local events, etc. Dean began to doze off as he heard a newscaster say, "…and the body was located near the library…"

Sam shouting "Caaahhhrrr" jerked him awake. Dean glanced at the TV set and saw the Impala in back of the live report from where "a body" was found. Why would the car be there? It must've gotten stolen, or something… unless… the body… was his dad's. Dean jumped off the couch and ran to the front door as Sammy tried to toddle after him. "Uncle Bobby! COME QUICKLY," he shouted as loud as he could.

Bobby ran inside thinking the worst, and found Dean standing by the front door looking pale. "What? What happened?"

Dean couldn't get his words out fast enough and they slurred together, "the newsandthetvmansaid! Deadbody! The Impala and DAD!"

"Whoa, I didn't hear anythin' you just said, slow down, boy."

"The news! It said there was a body by the library and dad's car was right there! Where did he go?" Dean shouted freaking out. Sam hobbled over and began to cry because of the noise.

Bobby looked at Dean for a moment without saying anything and finally told him, "Your dad's fine. Nobody would wanna kill him, he's too much of an idjit." He picked up Sam and awkwardly patted him until he stopped crying and was silenced to a hiccupping sound.

"How do you know, Uncle Bobby? He said he was goin' to work, but that don't look like work!"

"I know because I'm a grown-up and had heard about this earlier," Bobby retorted. "And your dad's job is special and just makes him drive all over. He's like a secret type of police. Nobody can know what he does or when he does it, but he helps a lot of people…"

"Really?" Dean said raising an eyebrow skeptically.

"Yes, would I lie to you, you little idjit?"

"No. But, Uncle Bobby what if he gets hurt…. Or somethin' real bad happens to him like it happened to mo—," Dean held his tongue. He didn't talk about that.

"Nothin' will happen boy, he's specially trained," Bobby answered putting a hand on the young boy's shoulder. He could see Dean's eyes swimming in despair as he had almost mentioned his mother.

"Promise?" Dean said looking up giving Bobby the full blast of the bright green eyes.

"Promise. You can't tell your daddy I told you this though, okay? Now what do you say we get back inside and I give you a slice of pie to eat?" Bobby asked giving him a friendly clap on the back.

Dean smiled widely and said, "Yes! C'mon, Sammy," and was inside the house before Bobby had time to blink.

* * *

Two days later Bobby heard the roar of the Impala outside of his house and he marched over to John's car and gave it a good kick in the tire.

"What the hell are you doing?" John shouted as he opened his car door. "That's a new hubcap, you maniac!"

"Look here Winchester, your boys are always worried sick about you and you go off disappearing and getting your car in the news when it's the most OBVIOUS car in the world!" Bobby said acidly leaning into John's face. "Dean thought you were dead because he saw the Impala on the news where there was a body. I had to tell him you were an officer working on a special secret case."

John stared at Bobby with a flabbergasted expression clearly at a loss for words. Finally, he spluttered a meek, "well, whaddaya want me to do? Take the kid with me?"

"No," Bobby said forcefully, "I want you to stop this stupid revenge game and be a father to your kids."

"I don't need you to tell me how to be a parent," John snarled pushing Bobby back. "You don't know. You—you have no idea!"

"You idjit. You're going to end up having these boys hate you if you don't stop!" Bobby retorted with a hiss. John was about to retort when…

BAM! The front door hits the side of the house and Dean is standing in the front door sleepily. "Dad… s'good you're back. Sammy's asleep."

"Hey there kiddo," John said forcing a smile.

"I just wanted to know if I could have another slice of pie…" Dean murmured groggily. "…It was so good."

Bobby broke out into a genuine smile, "Sure, boy. We should all go inside." He shot a pointed glance at John.

"Yeah c'mon, nothing's better than a good old slice of pie," John agreed. The three of them made their way into the kitchen and polished an entire pie clean.

* * *

The next day John was packed and ready to go with both boys in the backseat. "Thanks again, Bobby."

Bobby grunted. The Impala began to pull out of the drive way as Dean shouted, "Can I get a piece of pie for the road?"

Bobby laughed and went back inside as he cut a slice for the boy. He'd never really wanted kids, but Dean was okay for a snot-nosed brat. He jogged back to the Impala with the pie in a napkin. "Take care boy, ok?"

Dean nodded, with a small, sad smile, and the Impala rolled out of the driveway and into the road.

Bobby sighed. Dean's life wasn't looking great. He was dragged around like a pet and John was descending into an obsession. It would be rough...well, at least the kid got his pie. He'd be fine for a whole 5 minutes.


	3. Chapter 3: Bulls-eye

**Chapter 3: Bulls-eye**

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**Author's Note: **Ah! Look at me posting on Friday the 13th. Isn't that crazy? ANYWAY, I just wanted to say sorry I haven't updated sooner, but I moved into my university dorm, so it's all been a little hectic. Between classes and trying to figure tings out there's never a spare moment! Just as a quick note-when the gun is used in this story, don't kill me if the details are a bit off, since I've never actually shot a gun and just used my friend and scholar, Mr. Google. Please review, it'd be lovely of you! Thanks!

* * *

Bright lights flooded the motel room; flames had licked his face when he had opened the door. He was greeted by the smell of burning flesh that hit his nose. _Dean and Sam's_ burning flesh. John saw Dean's horrified face questioning _why_? John rolled over on his side with a start; the crappy polyester sheets did nothing to drench his sweat. He could feel his heart pounding through his chest; it was so loud he could hear it. John sat up and looked at Dean and Sam sleeping in the other bed. His throat was constricted. He couldn't, he _wouldn't _let anything happen to his boys. If it did…he didn't want to think about it. John, who always slept fully clothed, slowly got up as the mattress creaked with his movement. He walked over to Dean's side and stared at his sleeping son. He couldn't just leave him _defenseless. _His eyes swept the room until he found the glowing green light of the digital clock. It was 4:50 am. John plopped back onto his bed as the mattress protested his weight. He had to tell Dean. He should know. He should be ready…because it was never going to stop. John knew he couldn't lose anyone again. He just couldn't. A nagging in the back of his mind told him, '_Dean's a kid! He's six!' _but he pushed any of those thoughts away. It was a necessary evil.

"Dean!" John whispered loudly in his ear.

Dean bolted up in an instant; he hadn't slept well in a while. "Yeah, Dad?"

"Get dressed and meet me outside in 5 minutes."

"What about Sammy?" Dean inquired.

"He'll be fine, we won't be gone too long," John said as he crossed the room and went out the front door.

Dean couldn't imagine what his dad wanted at 5 o'clock in the morning. He sighed as he sluggishly got dressed in a dirty plaid shirt and a pair of ratty jeans. Dean gave one last look at his little brother before he quietly made his way out of the motel room. When Dean walked out the early-rising summer sun hit his eyes and he squinted. "Dad?"

'Over here," John called by the edge of the Impala. "I'm going to teach you something."

"Okay," Dean muttered as he walked over to his dad's car. John stood by the trunk until Dean reached him, and he slowly opened the trunk. There wasn't anything there, other than their spare clothes…but then Dad opened the bottom (like in a cool spy show). Guns. Lots and lots of guns. And knives. And other things Dean wouldn't have even imagined in his coolest, most kick-ass dreams. "Whoa," Dean breathed. "Dad, are you part of the FBI?"

John gave a slight grimace as he pulled out a shotgun and a duffel bag. "Not exactly," he murmured closing the trunk. "You and I are going to practice shooting at targets."

"What? With a real gun? No way! This is wicked!" Dean said bursting with energy.

"Slow down, kiddo," John said with a sigh. "Alright let's go in the woods just past the road, we can be concealed there." John slung the duffel bag over his shoulder and held the gun in his right hand. He opened his left hand and reached out for Dean's small fingers. Dean gave his dad a puzzled look, but took his Dad's large, comforting hand anyway. It broke John's heart to see his kid didn't even know that parents and their children held hands to cross streets or to feel safe. '_What am I doing?' _John wondered as he waked along the dusty road to reach the neck of the woods. '_Pull yourself together, Winchester. You can't be soft now when there are things out there just waiting.' _ John sighed as Dean and he reached the beginning of the woods.

"Are we gonna go in there?" Dean asked slightly uncertain.

"Yeah, we'll be fine, don't worry," John said leading them about 200 feet in. "Alright, we've got to make this fast because we need to be there before your brother wakes up, understand?"

"Yes, sir," Dean said, eyes locked on his father's.

"Okay. This here, is a shotgun. I'm going to teach you how to shoot it, and then we'll shoot ping-pong balls, ok?"

"Okay… but why?" Dean asked.

"What do you mean why?" John answered with a question of his own.

"Well, why are we doin' this now? I mean, I promise I like it, Dad, it's just… what's the point?" Dean questioned, trying to articulate his thoughts.

John bit his lip as he stared into his son's bright green eyes. God, they looked like Mary's. "I'll explain after, just do what I tell you."

"Okay, Dad," Dean said, satisfied. He never questioned anything John asked of him. It was just natural.

"First thing you gotta know is that this is a pump-action shotgun," John said as he began demonstrating how to load a shotgun, "After every shot you gotta pump the forend of the gun to eject the used shell and load another from the magazine tube into the chamber. You followin'?"

"Um. Kinda. So I put the shell at the end of the barrel? And then when I am done I push it like this?" Dean asked.

"Exactly. I got you a smaller gun, so it should be easier to use. And these shells aren't real, just the plastic stuff to practice. Now, you've gotta hold the shotgun with one hand on the forearm and one on the grip behind the trigger. Then you turn slightly to the left of the target and move the gun away from you a bit," John said demonstrating. "You try now."

Dean mimicked John's movements perfectly and didn't even tremble under the far-too-heavy weight of the gun. He was a natural. "Like this, Dad?"

"Just like that," John said with a small smile. "Now when you actually shoot you're gonna wanna move the butt of the shotgun into your shoulder and align your cheek with it so you can see."

Dean followed the instructions and looked up expectantly at his dad.

"Then you click the safety off, point at a target, and shoot. All at once, just like that." John grabbed the duffel bag and ran 50 feet away. He unzipped the bag and took out old beer cans and set them up like towers of various heights and placed little orange ping-pong balls at the top of them. John shouted from far away, "Now you're gonna try for real. Aim for the cans, Dean. If you can get the ball at the top, I'd be surprised."

Dean looked at his father, a pit in his stomach. He wanted to do really well. He wanted his dad to be happy with him. Like before. Dean took a deep breath, sliding into the motions of firing a shotgun. '_I'll shoot on three. One. Two. Three.'_

BAM! An echo ricocheted in the forest. Dean was on his butt, stunned. Somehow he'd managed to fall after he shot the gun. He scrambled to his feet hoping hid dad hadn't seen. "Dad?" Dean asked nervously, "was that okay?"

John's shocked face met Dean's. "You—you hit the ping-pong ball," he said after a stunned moment of silence. "You hit the damn PING-PONG BALL!"

Dean stared at his dad for moment and then shifted his gaze to his feet. "I was just lucky, dad. Lemme go again." John stepped aside and let Dean shoot again. Not once. Not twice. But three times, Dean hit the pin-pong ball clean off the cans.

John didn't say anything, but he gave Dean a small, but strong smile. His kid was freaking James Bond or something. He walked over to Dean and clapped him on the shoulder. "C'mon kiddo, it's nearly 5:45, and your brother could be awake any minute now."

"Yeah, okay, Dad," Dean said with a smug pride in his voice. His dad was proud of him, he could tell. Even if he didn't say anything, he just knew. When John and Dean had packed up and walked back to the Impala that was parked in front of their room Dean finally asked something that had been bothering him all day. "Dad? I had fun and all, it's not that I didn't…but why did we do this?"

John sighed. He had been dreading this part. The whole "evil's out there" thing was going to be tough to explain to a six year old. "Dean… I need to tell you some stuff… and it won't be easy."

"Dad?" Dean asked looking up at him.

"I…taught you to use the shotgun in case of an emergency…"

"Okay, but that's no big deal, Dad," Dean said slowly.

"In case of… a monster," John finished looking anywhere but his son.

Several seconds passed by until Dean spoke. "Monsters? But my teachers told me monsters don't exist."

"They didn't know the truth," John spoke.

"Dad…you're not pulling a prank, right? Because it's not even April Fool's," Dean pointed out with unease in his voice.

"No, Dean. I'm being 100% serious," John said finally looking into his son's eyes.

That was when Dean knew his dad wasn't lying. The look in his eyes… there was nothing warm or funny in them; his dad's eyes were cold, hard, and empty. "Oh," Dean said softly.

"It's okay, Dean," John murmured in an attempt to comfort his eldest. "I fight them. I hunt them down all over, that's why we have to move so much. While I'm around, they can't hurt you."

Dean hated how his dad seemed to guess what he was thinking. His voice wavered a bit as he said, "Yeah? And what happens when you're not here, Dad? Huh?"

"I'll always be here, Dean-o."

"No, Dad. You leave, and me and Sammy just sit around," Dean said beginning to get angry.

"That's why I'm telling you. You need to know how to protect yourself and your brother. You've got to know how to take care of him, Dean. He's little and he won't know any better," John said firmly. Dean looked taken aback for a moment, but his expression clouded over.

" Don't ever tell him," Dean said suddenly very authoritative.

"What? I won't," John said, surprised by the sudden change of attitude.

"Good. Sammy's little and stuff. He won't ever get it. I'll take care of him," Dean said with a steely look in his eyes. " 'Sides, he's a cry baby and is scared of everything anyway." Dean attempted a smile for his father, to show he was fine. He was _always_ fine.

John wondered how old Dean really was. Not six, that was for sure. The way his son cared for his little brother and the way he took everything he had just told him so well made him proud, if just a bit sad for the end of his innocence.

"One thing, Dad…" Dean said as his voice trailed off.

"Yeah?"

"They got mom, didn't they?" Dean asked without an ounce of emotion in his voice.

John rubbed his face with one hand. He stared at the ground for a while before he quietly said, "Yeah. They did. But we'll get the thing that did it, Dean. I promise."

Dean stood in silence for a moment before replying firmly, "_Good_." Dean turned away from his dad and walked back into the motel room just as Sammy was beginning to stir.

John's gazed followed his first-born's back into the room. Dean was always surprising him when it came to these things. He waited a while as he stared into space. Everything was gonna change now. John looked at his watch. Nearly 6:15. He walked inside the motel room to the sound of Sam gurgling.

"Dee! Cheeooo!" Sam squealed at Dean as he pounded a small fist on the little table by the mini fridge.

"I'm coming, I can't pour cheerios that fast, Sammy. They'll spill all over and make a mess," Dean explained.

John drank in the scenery. It wasn't perfect; Dean now had the task of taking care of himself and Sammy, and he wouldn't really ever be the same again…but despite all that, it felt calm for the first time in a while. His boys were squabbling over cereal and some football game was playing on TV. John sat on his bed as he wondered if this was the closest to happiness he'd ever come.

_Probably. _

_ But it's worth it. _


	4. Chapter 4: Forts

**Author's Note: **So Sorry about not updating more frequently. I get ideas in my head and never get a chance to properly write them out. I've just been incredibly busy. Just had midterms. Phew. Those were brutal...chemistry and I are just not compatible. I just saw the season 9 premiere tonight to celebrate the end of midterms. I think I scared my roommate. Here's a shorter chapter that's pretty fluffy! Anyway, read/review/comment/etc I love hearing from you guys!

Also- the stuff about the quest and the knights is all true. I was a big Arthurian legends geek and read all the stories about them, so sorry if that bogs the story down a bit. Too much trivia I'll never need just floats all over my brain.

* * *

**Chapter 4: Forts**

Dean was slumped in a chair watching a terrible infomercial. It was something about a pet rock that was really popular. Dean rolled his eyes at the thought and glanced out the window. The rain was coming down pretty hard; it had started raining about 2 hours ago, but it kept getting worse. Thunder was now involved. Sammy was asleep and there was nothing to do in the sleazy motel. Dad had said he was going "out" for a few days, but Dean knew better. There was something out there. Something evil that was killing things. He just didn't know where it was… _Or if dad's still alive._ Dean pushed the thought out of his mind. His dad would be okay. He was a superhero.

Dean sat for a few more minutes, but finally couldn't take it anymore. "Hey," Dean said poking Sammy in the stomach, "get up."

Sammy groaned and slapped Dean's hand away. "What d'you wan' Dee?"

"I'm bored. Let's do something "

Sammy just stared at him. "'S rainin' Dee."

"Well… want me to read you a story?" Dean said with a pleading grin.

Sammy rolled over with a small mumble. "Okay, but one with pictures."

"Done. I have just the story. It's this comic book that has lots of stories about different things." Dean walked over to his small bag of things that belonged to him and pulled out a comic that read _Classics Illustrated: King Arthur and the Knight's of the Round Table. _Dean waved the comic in Sammy's face. "It's about this knight that goes on a quest and stuff."

Sammy grabbed the comic out of Dean's hands and inspected the picture. "Read," he commanded.

"Fine," Dean said holding up his hand in mock defeat. "Anything for you princess."

Sammy stuck his tongue out.

"Once upon a time, in a land called Camelot, there was a mighty King names Arthur. He was a just and fair ruler whose subjects loved him dearly. Arthur had knights that served him loyally. They were known as knights of the round table," Dean read steadily. He secretly loved to practice his reading; his teacher said he was one of the best in the class. He continued, "One evening an unknown Green Knight stormed into Arthur's castle challenging the chivalry of Arthur's Knights. He posed a challenge for any knight willing to accept it in order to prove their honor: any knight would be given the chance to kill him, if in one year he could return the favor. Gawain, one of Arthur's knights stepped in and sliced the Green Knight's head off. However, the Green Knight simply picked up his head and put it back on."

"Like a ghost?" Sammy asked confused.

"No!" Dean blurted a bit too forcefully. "I mean, no he's just some special knight, I guess." Sammy stared at him before nodding that he should continue.

"The Green Knight told Gawain that in a year he'd do the same to him. Gawain accepted, graciously. Gawain was one of Arthur's most honorable Knights. He was kind, courageous, humble, honest, and modest…"

Dean continued reading, but Sammy was lost in his own thoughts. King Arthur's knights were so brave, and noble… he could never do that. It was crazy. How could someone risk getting hurt and be so _nice _about it. Sammy felt a pit grow in his stomach. He could never be a real knight…

"Sammy? You with me?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, Dee. "Jus' don' like thun-duh," Sammy lied.

"Don't worry, nothins gonna happen," Dean said putting his arm around his brother's shoulders. "But, if you want, we can protect ourselves."

Sammy's curiosity peaked. "How?"

"We build our own castle, like in the story. Our own fort!" Dean said with a mischievous smile.

"Yes, Dee! Yes!" Sammy squealed forgetting about his thoughts. "How you gonna do it?"

"See the beds next to each other? Those are the castle walls. We'll build a door with the pillows and we'll put a blanket on top to cover the walls and we'll have a nice castle." Dean began pilling all the pillows on the floor. "You just gonna sit there? Help get the blankets!"

Sammy sprung up and pulled all the blankets off the bed. Dean was arranging the pillows at the edge of both beds. They resembled a small blockage so the small rectangle between the two beds was enclosed.

"Got this, Dee," Sammy said handing him the blanket.

"Okay, I'm gonna go out of the fort and then put the roof on. You have to let me in through the pillow-doors when I give the secret knock, ok?"

"What knock, Dee?"

"This one," Dean said tapping out a _dundun-dundundun. _"Okay I'm going out, wish me luck," he said with a wink. Dean walked outside the fort and draped the blanket over the gap between the beds evenly and then climbed off one of them and gave the secret knock.

"Was that it, Dee?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "Yes, Sammy, now lemme in!"

Sammy pulled back a pillow and Dean squeezed in with a flashlight. "Now nothin' can get us, Sammy."

"Nothin?"

"Nope. We're the brave knights of Camelot, Sammy!"

Sammy grimaced. "No."

"No?"

"I'm not a knight, Dee."

"Sure you are. What are you then? The princess? Princess Sammy?"

Sammy sighed in annoyance. "No. Not the pwin-cess, Dee. Not any-fin."

"You're a lot of fun," Dean said with a slight concern in his voice. "You okay?"

"Yeah. But I'm jus' me. You're a knight tho." Sammy meant it, too. His brother was the best big brother ever. He always shared his toys, gave him the last bits of candy, and didn't get too mad when Sammy spilled red juice all over his white shirt. His brother was a lot better than anyone he knew.

"I can't be a knight without you," Dean said. "How about if we're both spies then? You'd be the youngest spy ever! 3 years old!"

"Fine. But you aren't that much older Dee. I'm prolly just as smart," Sammy said with a smile.

"Funny. You've just been demoted to my personal butler. I'll save the world, you just clean up."

Sam pulled out one of the pillows and smacked Dean in the head with it. "Nuh-uh Dee!"

Dean yanked a pillow out for himself and (lightly) hit his brother back. "Respect your elders, shorty," Dean said quoting his dad. He had no idea what it actually meant, just that whoever was older got to say it.

"Never!" Sammy said jumping on top of Dean and squishing him.

"I'm so gonna kill you."

"You can't!" Sammy said grinning. His brother always knew how to make things right.

* * *

John walked into the dark motel room later that night at around 4:30 am. He was drenched from head to toe and had a nasty gash on his arm. A haunted Laundromat was nothing to joke about. "Dean?"

No response

"Dean?" John inquired a little louder.

No response.

"Dean?" John said frantically finding a light switch.

He flipped the lights on and he noticed the lump in between the two beds. "What the hell?" he mumbled.

Just then a small head popped out. "Shh, Dad. Be quiet 'cause Dee jus' fell asleep."

"Hey kiddo," John said kneeling down. "What's this?"

"Dee an' me made a fort an' then I beat him up with pillows."

John chuckled at the thought of small Sammy beating anything up. "Can I come in?"

"You hafta know the knock dad," Sammy replied earnestly.

"Can you give me the knock?"

Sammy hesitated. "Um. I dunno, Dad. 'S a secret."

John could see Sammy really wanted this to be between Dean and him. "I get it, kiddo. Go back to bed in your fort, or whatever it is. Night."

"Night, Dad," Sammy said crawling back into the fort.

John stared at the mess of pillows and blankets and smiled. Someday they'd both have to grow up and face what was out there. But for now, he let them stay in the world of pure imagination. He slumped onto his bed void of pillows and blankets, and was out within five minutes.


	5. Chapter 5: Halloween

**Chapter 5: Halloween**

* * *

**Author's Note: **In light of Halloween coming up, I figured I would write a chapter about Halloween. I'm proud I've been responsible enough to update semi-frequently since college classes are a bit crazy right now. Anyway, as always read, review, enjoy! Hope you're all having a wonderful October!

* * *

** "**Aww, c'mon, dad. Please!" came a whine from a sullen-looking Dean.

"No, Dean. Drop it." John said irritated. He turned around from the array of missing people pinned to the motel wall to face his eldest. Dean was standing his ground, although he seemed to have lost his nerve after his father had shouted at him.

"Dad, I promise I won't let anything happen. It's just that he's been driving me nuts about it all week. He really, _really _wants to go," Dean pleaded.

"You don't know what's out there at night, Dean," John replied exasperated. "Plus, tons of people will be walking around, you could lose him."

"No, Dad, I swear. I won't." Dean looked directly into his dad's eyes. John could feel the guilt-trip radiating out of them.

"I don't know, Dean…" John's voice trailed off.

"You can come with us if you want, dad! I promise I'll look after Sammy."

Walking away from Dean, John peeked into the room adjacent to the one he was in; a cartoon on TV happily entertained Sammy as Dean begged his dad to let them go trick-or-treating. He sighed and turned back to Dean.

"You know I can't go, I'm working a case. Luckily this is just a pit stop city and there's nothing freaky here as far as I can tell. If I let you go, and that's a _big_ if, you have to stay with him at all times. Things could be out there, Dean." John rubbed his eyes. It was far easier to keep his kids on lockdown.

"Dad, I swear. I won't let anythin' happen to him," Dean replied earnestly while attempting to contain the glow in his eyes.

"Do you even have anything to dress up in?"

Dean grinned mischievously, "I have something planned."

"God help me," John replied with a smile.

* * *

"Go out and show dad, Sammy," Dean said eagerly as he pushed his brother into the small kitchen where his dad was about 4 hours later. It was beginning to get dark and if Dean had actually convinced his dad to let them go out, he didn't want to push his luck and wait a whole lot longer.

"Boo!" Sammy said running into the kitchen. He was wearing a sheet with holes cut out for eyes and arms. Although Dean couldn't see it, he knew his brother was grinning from ear to ear.

"Ah… you're a ghost," John said after examining the costume for a good 30 seconds.

"Yes, he's a _scary _ghost," Dean said making his eyes wide at his dad as if to say '_c'mon tell him it's cool even though we both know it sucks.'_

"Yes, real scary, Sammy. Look at you. Who made this?" John inquired looking at Dean. "It's exactly like a _Charlie Brown _ghost from the cartoons."

Sammy, never having seen _Charlie Brown_ ignored his father and excitedly shouted, "Dee had the idea, but I cut the eyes out!"

"I can see," John said looking at the crooked eyeholes, "it's very…original."

Sammy smiled and seemed to deem that a great evaluation and he skipped back into the main room and pulled off a pillowcase to use for the candy.

"Where exactly did you get the sheet, Dean?"

"Uhh. Well, don' be mad. I just sorta saw it…on the maid's cart… and borrowed it. Permanently." Dean shuffled his feet and became very interested in his fingernails as he waited for his dad to tell him that he couldn't just take something.

John snorted. "Little pistol, I bet the maid loves you."

Dean flashed him an impish smile. "I learned from the best."

Sammy chose that time to begin whining and pulling on Dean's sleeve. "Are we gonna go, Dee? The candy's gonna be gone! C'mon, Dee, C'mon!"

Sighing, John turned to Dean. "Can you go check for my wallet in the bathroom, Sammy?"

Sammy walked out to go look for the wallet in the bathroom with a huff.

"Take this, Dean," he said handing him a small handgun.

Dean's eyes grew wide as saucers. He gingerly took the gun and put it on a large inside pocket of the jacket he had. "Dad, I..."

"No, listen Dean. If anything happens, you need to shoot first, ask questions later. I don't think anything will happen, but you never know. So take it, and be careful. Got it?"

Suppressing a gulp Dean forced himself to look at his Dad, "sure, Dad."

"I'm serious Dean, you gotta—"

"Watch out for Sammy, I know." Dean said his eyes a bit weary from all the times his dad had told him that. It was becoming a creepy mantra. Or a cult code. _The Winchester Cult. Awesome._

John stared at Dean for a few moments before looking away and saying, "and watch out for yourself, too."

"Yeah, dad. Course."

Sammy walked into the room again. "Dad I can' find it!"

"Huh, must have had it on me this whole time," John said pulling it out of his pocket. Dean rolled his eyes. Classic dad.

"Alright let's go Sammy," Dean said walking out the front door of the motel. "We're gonna have to walk a few blocks down to the nearest section of houses, c'mon." Dean held out his hand for Sammy to hold.

"I'm not a baby, Dee. I don' need ta hold your hand." Sammy said.

Slightly hurt, Dean retorted, "Yeah sure. When you can say 'Dean' correctly you won't be baby."

"I can say Dee," Sammy responded partly serious, partly offended.

"Uh-huh. In the meantime," Dean replied grabbing Sammy's hand, "you're gonna stick with me."

Sammy gave a huffy sigh that was becoming so characteristic of him. Dean had never met anyone who could be fine one minute and then sulk for hours the next.

"We have to strategize, Sammy. We need to hit the biggest houses first to get the most candy outta this." Dean was concocting a game plan in his head as they walked; they were going to get a ton of candy and then ration it throughout the year to maximize the chocolaty goodness.

Sammy half-listened. He was just excited to get out of the motel. They'd been there for two days while his dad looked at papers over and over again. "Hey, Dee, where's your cos-tum?"

"I'm wearing it," Dean said looking at Sammy.

"Nuh-uh, Dee. It's jus' your clothes."

"No, I'm someone else. Promise."

"Who?"

"I'm dad!" Dean said with a smile.

Sammy looked at him and finally spoke up. "You're dad?"

"Yep, pretty neat. And way easier than your ghost."

"Why are you dad, Dee?" Sammy asked confused.

"Because… dad is the best dad in the world and he helps make the world a good place," Dean said looking down at his little brother with a sincere expression.

Sammy couldn't understand why Dean thought that. Their dad wasn't always there and when Sammy got scared it wasn't his dad that he went to for help. E thought for a while and said, " yeah, okay, Dee. You can be dad, but you're way too smiley to be dad."

"Samuel Winchester, don't use that tone with me," Dean said authoritatively as he furrowed his brow.

"Now you're dad," Sammy said laughing.

* * *

Thirty minutes later the boys reached the neighborhood where kids went trick-or-treating. Dean looked at his wristwatch. 7:45. He had to be home by 10, so he calculated they had enough time to go to all the big houses, decorated houses (because why else would they put decorations up if they weren't going to have candy), and all the houses with little candy bowls outside that hoped to avoid the crowds of rowdy children. Dean tore down the street to the big houses, dragging Sammy along since his feet weren't keeping up too well.

They reached a huge house with fog and pre-recorded loops going of wails and moans. It seemed to be an amateur haunted house. "Hey! Sammy! Wanna go in?" Dean asked, an excited energy practically spilling out his ears.

"Is it real scary Dee?" Sammy looked a bit uneasy.

Dean noticed his brother wasn't looking too thrilled. "No, Sammy, it'll be fine. I'll be there the whole time. Promise."

"Okay, Dee. Les go!"

The house was two stories with spiraling staircases on each end , with the bottom of the house the designated "haunted" area in which the owners had set up a variety of rooms with different terrors.

"C'mon Sammy," Dean said pulling his brother close to him as he tried to push his way through the throng of people to get into the first room. The first room was lit with a purple light, casting eerie shadows on everybody. There was a sign that read "Place hands in bowl to feel human eyes." Dean stuck his hand in and pulled out a peeled grape. "See, Sammy. Nothing to worry about."

Sammy smiled a little. "What about over there, Dee?" Sam pointed at the next room.

Dean held his little brother's hand led him to the next room. A sign above the door to the second room read, "One room down, two to go. Enter with caution." Dean pushed the door open. This room had a pitch-black lighting. It was impossible to make out what was more than 3 feet in front of him. Dean gripped Sammy's hand tightly as a crowd of 8 teenagers pushed though the door.

"This sucks, man. I can't see shit, and it's not very frightening," came a voice.

"Shut up, Jeremy. You could trip and break your neck in the dark. Oh wait, that'd be an improvement," snapped a girl's voice.

Dean couldn't help but smile. The teens bickered back and forth as they passed Dean and Sammy in the room.

"I'm thirsty, Dee," came Sam's whisper.

"Alright, Sammy. When we get out of this room we can get you a juice or something." The Winchesters followed the teenagers and were eventually caught up with them. The arguing hadn't ceased.

"Only babies would be scared of this," a gruff voice muttered.

"You should be crying by now, then," a girl replied.

Dean could see a faint light up ahead. He pulled Sammy trying to get in front of the party-poopers when all of the sudden a girl leading the pack of teens led out a blood-curdling scream.

The sound shocked Dean and he jumped around and let go of Sammy's hand, just as the teens on the sides of him began running to the exit. Somebody was coming behind them with what looked like a chainsaw. Dean tensed and his hand automatically went to his pocket where the gun was. He waited in the shadows, and finally caught a glimpse of the attacker. It was some bald guy with a toy chainsaw.

"That'll teach those brats," he muttered to himself and walked out of the room.

Dean breathed a sigh of relief. He chuckled and said, "that's what they get for complainin', right Sammy?"

Dean turned and squinted his eyes. He couldn't make out where Sammy was. "Sammy! SAMMY!" Dean bolted out of the room wondering if his brother had gotten trampled by the frightened teens. "Oh god. Oh god."

Running back into the room, Dean knelt down and crawled over every inch trying to find Sammy, to no avail. "Crap. Oh crap."

Dean exited the second room in a panic. "Help! Somebody help!" he shouted. Nobody really paid too much attention to him; the entire house had prerecorded screams.

"Sammy!" Dean shouted running outside the house. There was no sign of him. What had happened to him? Nobody could've kidnapped him…could they? Dean gulped and went back into the house. Sammy wasn't kidnapped. He wasn't. Just lost in the mansion of a house. Dean entered the first room again. He squinted in the violet lighting, but he couldn't see anybody. Everybody had moved on to the other rooms. It was quiet other than the tapes they had going. Dean turned to leave when a _creak _from behind him made him jump. Dean pulled out the gun reflexively, and turned to see the source of the noise.

"Dee?" Sammy said with a sniffle. He was hiding under the table where the "real human eyeballs" were

"Sammy! Thank god. I thought—well you disappeared," Dean said breathing a sigh of relief as he stowed the gun and ran to his brother.

"The big kids ran and I got stuck there so I ran too. One of 'em stepped on my finger. Then I got scared and hid under the table so no one would step on me no more." Sammy whispered embarrassed, trying to wipe-away frightened tears

"Don't worry Sammy. You're okay. I gotcha," Dean said picking him up.

'Why do ya have a gun, Dee? Is it real?" Sammy asked as he burrowed his head on his brother's shoulder.

"I told you I was dad," Dean said with a smile.

"No, you're you, Dee. An' that's good," Sammy said with a yawn.

Dean opened his mouth to refute his brother's claim, but closed it again. "Thanks, Sammy."

"Dee?"

"Yeah?"

"Les go home. I don' like Halloween," Sammy muttered.

"Okay, Sammy. I'll buy you a bag of candy at that gas station by the motel," Dean said as he carried his little brother out of the house and began the walk back to the motel. "Oh and, Sammy?"

"Yeah Dee?"

"Uh, you mind not tellin' dad this?" Dean asked tentatively.

"I won' Dee. Promise," Sammy said beginning to fall asleep on Dean's shoulder.

Dean smiled as he felt Sammy's breath getting slower and steadier on his neck. "Happy Halloween, Sammy."


	6. Chapter 6: Clowns

**Author's Note: **Gah, sorry it's taken like 3 weeks to update, I've just been swamped with uni work. Let me tell you, a biochem major isn't really a picnic. Anyway, here's the next chapter (and in each chapter the boys are chronologically older), so enjoy! As always, read and review!

Disclaimer: If I actually owned the Winchesters, I highly doubt I'd sit in my dark dorm writing fanfiction.

* * *

**Chapter 6: Clowns**

John Winchester sat in the small kitchen of their tiny apartment. There was a hunt about 2 hours away he was working on—something was causing people to reenact gruesome horror movie deaths. He could understand one nut job taking a movie too seriously, but 6 in the past 3 weeks? There was no such thing as coincidence. He suspected some sick satanic bastard was probably dabbling with witchcraft, but he couldn't be too sure. He planned on meeting a hunter-friend (did hunter's have friends?) of his up at the epicenter of all the deaths in a few hours. He felt comfortable enough leaving Dean and Sammy alone, they were far enough away from it all, and Dean wasn't going to go and do something stupid.

The apartment telephone rang and John could hear Sammy's small voice answer, "Hi this is Sam, do ya need something?" John chuckled. Sam's vocabulary and pronunciation had grown exponentially—not to mention his belief that he was old enough to be independent. He didn't want Dean to baby him anymore, but that wasn't going to stop Dean from trying. "Mhm, my dad's over in the kitchen I think. I'm gonna get him, but don't hang up, ok?" Sammy shuffled into the kitchen, his small frame barely taller than the table John was sitting at. "Dad ya got someone on the phone."

John got up and picked up the kitchen extension of the phone. "Winchester here," here said with a note of seriousness. "Hey Caleb, you getting ready to meet Dave up at his place and end this whole wi—ah," John glanced at Sammy who was standing by the table casually eavesdropping. "The ah—business we have to do?"

"John we have a problem," came Caleb's voice from the other end. "Dave…he…they got him, whoever they are."

Sammy stared at his Dad's face. It had clouded over and his eyes…his eyes were scary. Sammy made to leave the room, but not before he saw his dad shout, "Dammit! Son of a bitch! I'm leaving now, lie low Caleb. If I hear that one more person I know gets slaughtered…" John's eyes flashed menacingly. John hung up the phone and was deadly quiet for a moment.

Sammy didn't know what had just happened, but it wasn't good. His dad looked like he was going to hit something. In a fit of rage John grabbed the phone and hurled it at the wall. He saw the tiny bits of the object crack, and then shower the floor. He was breathing heavily and he could feel his heart thumping loudly in his chest. He whirled around and saw Sammy standing very still. He and his youngest made eye contact. Sammy's eyes held pure terror. "Sa—" John began, but it was too late. Dean had run into the kitchen, and Sam had instantly retreated behind his brother's taller figure.

"It's okay, Sammy," Dean said looking over his shoulder at his brother's cowering figure. Dean looked up at his father. Dean didn't have fear in his eyes; it was something closer to a mixture of uncertainty and weariness at the amount of times he'd had to comfort his dad. "Dad, do you want me to get you something to drink?" Dean asked tentatively.

John stared at his oldest son. Dean was a good kid; he somehow always managed to snap him back to reality. "Ah, no. I'm—I'm fine. I've got to go. Something urgent, " John flashed a it's-about-_that_-thing-we-don't-tell-Sammy-about look at Dean, "has come up. I don't know when I'll be back. Maybe in a week or so."

Dean looked at his father's hardened features, and understood even without him saying what had happened. Something had happened to expedite the case. Most likely someone had died. _Seems to happen to us a lot, _Dean thought sarcastically. "Okay, dad. Go."

"Here's money," John said shoving a wad of cash into Dean's hand. "Dean… you know the drill." The unspoken '_shoot first, ask questions later' _was written all over his face.

Dean nodded. He knew what he had to do to keep his little brother safe. No matter what happened he had to keep Sammy safe. His dad gave a one-sided attempt at a smile that just made him look like he was in pain. John patted Sammy's head, and Sammy flinched. John stopped for the slightest moment and looked as if he were going to say something, but changed his mind. He clasped Dean's shoulder as a form of comfort and rushed through the door.

Sammy watched his dad speed away, and was left looking at the large door. "Is dad gonna be okay Dean?"

"Dad? Course. He's always okay," Dean said scoffing at Sammy's worries. Truth was, though, Dean _was _worried. He always worried for his dad.

"Is he…is he gonna be back soon?" Sammy asked uncertainly.

"'Course. Why wouldn't he be? Who else is gonna put up with you?" Dean smiled at his brother as he pounced him and put him in a headlock.

"Dean! Getoffa me! Getofff!" Sammy whined trying in vain to shake his larger brother off. "You're lucky I'm littler. I'm gonna be bigger and then I'll get you."

"Sure you will, Sammy," Dean chuckled letting his little brother go. "At least you can say 'Dean' now, so there's a start.

Sam glared at Dean. Dean had to admit, it was the best bitchface he'd ever seen—and he'd gotten a lot of looks like that from teachers due to his varying excuses as to why he didn't do his homework or why he "accidently" had to slug some kid with a backpack. "So… wanna get somethin' to eat?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, I'm hungry," Sammy admitted in a pouty voice indicating he hadn't forgiven Dean for getting one over him so easily.

_Sammy really does hate not being good at things, and he has a control freak thing going and he's 5. At this rate he'll be unbearable by the time he's my age, _Dean thought to himself. "Well, there's a few burger joints about a mile from here near that community college or something," Dean explained grabbing his jacket and stuffing the money in his pocket.

"Yeah, let's go," Sammy responded slipping on his pre-knotted shoes. He hated having to be a baby and ask his brother or his dad to tie them for him, so he just never untied them, something Dean didn't fail to notice.

Dean and Sammy marched out the front door into the crisp autumn air. Their tennis shoes made _squeak squeak squeak _noises in synch as they trotted along the empty road. It was usually a pretty busy town, but there was nobody in sight.

"Where is everyone?" Dean asked quizzically. Usually kids were running up and down the block.

"I dunno. Busy?" Sammy responded not really paying attention to Dean's inquiries.

Dean noticed Sammy's distracted look. "You okay? I was just messing with you at home," Dean told Sammy wondering if he'd actually upset him by putting him in a headlock.

"Wha—no I forgive you. It's just…"

"What?"

"You and Dad never tell me anything…" Sammy's voice trailed off.

Dean felt a pit forming in his stomach. He was so not having this talk. "What do you mean?"

"Why do we move so much?" Sammy looked fiercely into his brother's eyes. Dean held his gaze briefly, but broke eye contact a moment later. "That's what I mean. You guys think I'm dumb."

"No! That's not it at all," Dean exclaimed frustrated. He couldn't explain the situation, but he didn't want Sammy to think he was keeping him in the dark because he thought he was stupid.

"Then what is it, Dean? I can understand."

"Sammy you're 5."

"So? I learned to read by practicing on my own after you taught me the alphabet. Mos' of the time people think I'm 8."

"Whoa, big man there. 8 years old."

"It's not much younger than you. You're only 9 ½," Sammy pointed out.

"9 ¾," Dean refuted with a charming Winchester smile.

"Stop it, Dean," Sammy muttered annoyed that his brother thought he was a baby.

"What do you want me to tell you, Sammy?" Dean asked dropping the smile.

Sammy stopped walking. "Is it—is it because we don't have a mom? Is that why we move a lot?"

Dean stopped dead in his tracks. Something caught his throat and he momentarily felt ill. He fake-coughed for a moment and finally looked at Sam. "Stop asking, Sammy."

"Why Dean?" Sammy muttered his frustration wavering slightly at the look on his brother's face.

"Because."

"That's not an answer, Dean. Dee," Sammy said using his pet name for Dean, "please."

Dean opened his mouth, but no sound came out. "I can't answer that Sammy, because… because you don't wanna know." Dean turned away from his brother and began walking away, indicating that he was done talking.

Sammy stared at him dumbfounded. He couldn't fathom what was so awful that his brother was acting so evasive. He sighed and slowly began walking again. Whatever it was, he was determined to find out no matter what. He didn't know when or how, but he would.

Dean and Sammy fell back into synch as they walked, but were stopped in their tracks as a line down the block was impeding their pathway. Dean glanced at Sammy and they exchanged a "_let's check it out" _look. They pushed their way up to the beginning of the line and saw that the community college had been turned into a giant carnival, an the people were lining up to get into the makeshift gate.

Dean slowly turned to Sammy. "Ya know, I'm pretty sure it's just as much as food…" Dean's voice trailed off hoping his little brother would catch the hint.

Sammy stared at him and then smiled, "it'd be sad if we didn't just check it out."

"Now we're talkin," Dean smiled as he grabbed Sammy's hand and yanked him, cutting to the front of the line. "I'd like two tickets, please," Dean said putting on maximum cute kid ability.

"I think you have to be 12 and over to come in alone," the girl at the gate told Dean.

"I look good for my age," Dean replied flashing the pearly whites.

The girl snorted. Was he trying to _flirt_ with her? She looked at the two boys dressed in jackets at least two sizes to big and smiled. They were cute kids, and the little one looked as if he might cry if she said no. She handed the older one of the two the tickets, "Here take these, _sir," _she said laughing, "and don't get into trouble or my boss will eat me alive."

"I wouldn't dream of it," Dean said innocently. As soon as both boys were in Dean chuckled. Chicks loved the cute kid thing. He'd used it at school plenty of times.

Sammy was too busy trying not to laugh. "Ya know girls have cooties right?"

"You're a…cootie," Dean finished lamely. "Nice puppy eyes, by the way. Look like you're gonna cry, people lap that stuff right up."

"Thanks, it's how I get dad to let me out of doing chores," Sammy boasted.

"Professional con at a young age. I can dig that."

"Shut up."

"Heh," Dean smiled to himself glad he'd gotten off of the topic of dad's work. "Wanna go on a ride or go in a funhouse or something?"

Sammy looked around. "I dunno, but I don't really feel like a ride."

"Funhouse?" Dean asked as he led Sammy towards them anyway. Both boys stepped inside the fun house. Mirrors covered the entirety of the room; everything from the ceiling to the floor was covered in. Dean was enjoying it a little too much and made faces at himself at every possible angle.

"Ugh, I'm gonna be sick," Sammy muttered.

"Why did you catch sight of your own reflection?" Dean joked.

Sammy shot him a classic _Sammy _look. "_No. _I'm getting dizzy 'cause of all the mirrors."

"Alright let's go into the next part of the funhouse. Don't puke on me, or I'm gonna be pissed," Dean said trying to get Sammy to smile.

The next portion of the funhouse was the standard obstacle courses with ropes and conveyor belts that pushed against the way you were supposed to be walking. Sammy loved the conveyor belt; he found it really fun to run against the direction of the belt. He thought it was kinda like going up the down escalator.

"Havin' fun Buzz?" Dean asked with an eyeroll as Sam took large steps that reminded him of the moon landing.

"Look, Dean, you can run but you stay in the same place!" Sammy screamed with giggles escaping him. Dean smiled, Sammy rarely laughed like—well, like a kid. Half the time they stayed in crappy motels and were too tired from the constant moving and the other half of the time Sammy would be lost in his thought or trying to teach himself to read. Sammy was right; the kid was really more like 8 inside.

After 15 more minutes, Sammy exhausted himself. He walked over to Dean. "What's in that room?" he asked pointing towards a brightly lit room.

"Let's find out," Dean replied walking over.

Both boys walked in and were greeted with the most garish smiling animals looking down upon at them from the walls and the ceiling. The room itself was an odd circular shape, so it looked as if the walls were caving in. In the middle was a platform-island that people were sitting around. Sammy immediately disliked it; the room made him feel trapped. There were kids sitting around the island waiting for something. The boys took a seat in the middle as people kept piling into the small room.

"Mom, I don't wanna sit and see a stupid carny show," Dean heard from behind him.

_'Huh, carny show. Probably clowns and animals and the whole nine yards,' _Dean thought to himself.

The room dimmed and it got deathly quiet as the spotlight, "Well hello there boys and girls!" came a voice. Sammy couldn't see all that well since someone was blocking his view. He caught a glimpse of the voice. It was something that looked like a person with bright orange hair sticking every which way. Its face… it's face was white with weird red paint on the noise. Sammy shuddered involuntarily. It looked like a person and the shape was similar… but it was an unsettling familiarity. It was wrong in the most normal way. As long as it was far away Sammy figured he could deal with the weird person on stage. He felt a tap on his shoulder. "Little boy, are you okay?"

He turned around and was face-to-face with another one of the _things. _Sammy let out a terrified shriek and tried to stand up right away, but ended up bumping the person in front of him.

"Hey watch it, kid!"

Sammy didn't care. He scrambled to get to his feet and began pushing people out of his way or accidentally stepping on them as he fled from the clown. He wasn't aware of Dean calling out his name or the clown chasing him to apologize. He pushed his way out of the room, back through the room with obstacle courses and was once again in the mirror room. The mirrored room had a purple lighting that cast a sinister glow on everything.

Sammy began trying to find where the exit, but it was difficult due to the amount of mirrors reflecting the door. Sammy stared at the ground trying to use the mirror on the floor to guide him since he wasn't able to think clearly. He looked up and the mirror in front of him reflected one of the clowns right behind him.

Sammy let out a bloodcurdling yell and backed himself up against a mirror.

Sammy heard a voice shout "Hey, Sammy! You're alright!" Dean's voice. He was safe.

"Dean," Sammy squeaked.

"It's all right, I gotcha," Dean said reaching his brother and picking him up, despite Sammy telling him he wasn't a baby anymore. For once, Sammy didn't mind.

"I'm sorry man!" The clown said to Dean. "I didn't mean to scare him."

Dean looked at him, "he's just, uh, sensitive. Don't worry about it." Locating the door Dean made a beeline towards it and left the funhouse. "You can open your eyes, Sammy…and maybe not choke me."

Sammy released the grip on his brother's shirt and clenched his fists. "What is it?"

"What is wh—oh the guy? He's dressed as a clown… they're supposed to be funny," Dean mumbled as he carried his brother out the carnival door.

"They're creepy," Sam retorted.

"People have said the same about you," Dean smirked.

Sammy glared.

"Well, I could tell you thought they were creepy. You nearly peed your pants."

"Shut up, Dean."

About halfway home Dean put Sammy down, and neither of them said much else. Dean had a nagging feeling in the back of his mind though. If this was how Sammy reacted with _clowns _how could he ever know about monsters? And he couldn't keep it a secret forever…Sammy was becoming too aware of it all.

Dean sighed. "Dude. I just realized…what are we gonna eat?"

Sammy stared at him. "What can you cook?"

"Um. Toast. And I burn that sometimes."

After trying to pretend to be mad, Sammy laughed and Dean joined in. Dean put his arm around his brother's shoulder. They'd figure it out. And in the meantime…Sammy was scared of clowns. He was going to have so much to blackmail him with…

Sammy was fast asleep when the phone rang. He groggily opened his eyes and looked over at his older brother. Dean was asleep. Sammy swung his legs over his bed and shuffled to pick up the phone.

"'S Sam. D'ya need something?" he murmured into the receiver.

"Sammy? It's dad."

Sammy's eyes opened all the way. "Dad? Dean's asleep do you need me to—"

"John cut him off. "No, it's okay Sammy. I just called to see how everything was going."

"Fine," Sammy replied quickly. It would be a horrible day in wherever horrible things happened if his dad found out he was scared of clowns.

"Well, good. Yeah. Okay," John sounded strained on the other line and Sammy wondered if there was something he wanted to say.

"Dad?" Sammy asked quietly.

"Just—ah—just be good and listen to your brother, okay?"

"Yes sir," Sammy replied.

"Bye."

Sammy walked over to his bed, a little disappointed his dad hadn't told him anything.

John Winchester put down the phone and sighed He stared at the plastic piece of communication and wondered why he hadn't been able to tell his youngest son he didn't mean to frighten him. That he was sorry. That he was sorry he drove them all around god's green earth. That he was sorry, things couldn't be different. But mostly that he was sorry he didn't see him as much as a good dad should. He was sorry he never really told him he loved him.

But he couldn't. He had to keep Sammy (and Dean) safe, and the only way to do that was by showing a little tough love and continuing to hunt the thing that destroyed life, as they knew it. So, if Sammy was going to be afraid and a little hurt at times, so be it. Better afraid than dead, anyway.

John closed his eyes, as he leaned against the headboard of another roadside motel. He allowed himself a brief moment of vulnerability and he was slowly lulled into a deep sleep.


End file.
